matador, estocada
by Ivory Muse
Summary: You're my bloodsport. — Zuko/Azula, song-based drabbles.


notes: warning for incest, child abuse, other nasty stuff. part of the electraverse, but it can stand on its own.

* * *

1\. tragedy bound— the bravery

 _he shriveled her down, wore her like a crown_

 _is there anybody in there?_

"He loves me," she says, with enough conviction in her voice to make him want to scream. "He does, Zuzu. Not you or Mother, but he loves me more than anything. It doesn't hurt."

"This isn't love," he says, his face contorting into a horrified grimace. "Look at you. Fuck, _look_ at you."

Cuts all along her arms; she shrugs down her sleeves and won't meet his gaze. "He always calls me beautiful."

She kisses him then, loosely and languidly, but he still doesn't have the strength to resist. Not when she pulls her shirt off and throws aside her diadem. Not when she leads him over to the bed and equal amounts of nausea and arousal crawl up his throat. This is the closest he'll ever get to saying he loves her.

* * *

2\. centuries— fall out boy

 _and you're a cherry blossom, you're about to bloom_

 _you look so pretty, but you're gone so soon_

"I'm going to be remembered forever."

Are you now, he wonders, looking at her. Are you really. Her hair is a mess, frayed at the edges from when she chopped it all off, her eyes wild and manic; ring-shaped bruises surround her wrists, where she struggled against restraints. Yet she still manages to sit on her iron-framed bed like a queen— no, like a Fire Lord— holding court.

"I was greater than you," she continues, barely noticing his presence. He's not convinced she knows if he's a hallucination. "Better in every single way; I didn't even need Father to tell me. I was the youngest firebending master in history. I conquered Ba Sing Se without spilling a drop of blood. Schoolchildren will read about me for centuries."

"But I'm the one on the throne," he can't stop himself from whispering, looking down at his broken sister; she's so tiny here, dwarfed by her own delusions. He'd beaten her, in the end. Katara chained her to a grate with grim satisfaction and he'd watched her as she howled on her knees, only bone and skin and blood. He would've felt sorrier for her if his chest wasn't crackling with electricity.

"It should've been me."

He understands. It shouldn't have been, and she would've destroyed their nation the same way she destroyed herself, but sometimes he understands. Sometimes, he thinks that grandeur would be the most fitting punishment for her.

* * *

3\. luno— bloc party

 _and your nose is bleeding_

 _you've been lying to me_

Four nights, no sleep, living inside her own head. It hurts as she paces around, scorching the carpets with every heavy footfall. Father hasn't hit her a lot, in the past few years, but he more than made up for it after the eclipse— whipping her with fire, painting her skin in watercolors of bruises, putting his hands around her throat and squeezing until her vision blurred. Between her legs aches like a wound.

 _Poor_ little Zuzu, his baby sister so cruel, so vicious. Stealing everything that _rightfully_ belonged to him— Father's affection, his crown, the adoration of their people. Well, Azula has never gotten anywhere by being nice. The one time she loathed waste, had a single moment of sentimentality, a knife was planted in her back. _Azula lied to you about the avatar._ Thank you, brother. What a lovely reward, and one she never saw coming.

Well, Zuko must die now; it's a shame, really, but nobody double-crosses her and lives to tell the tale. She'll kill him, and she'll forget about all this. It was never relevant. _A mistake that can be corrected, Father, please, one more chance one more please please please?_

She collapses on her bed and touches herself, too far gone to notice the soreness, so angry she might just spew fire if she opens her mouth. She thinks about him, and how much she wants him to die, and she comes harder than she ever has in her life.

* * *

4\. how soon is now?— the smiths

 _you shut your mouth_

 _how can you say i go about things the wrong way?_

"Does Mai know about this?"

"No," he snaps, furious at the mention of her name. Mai is good, Mai is good and clean and pure, the girl his mother chose for him to marry. Azula has been filthy since the day she was born, a liar, a monster, just like Mother said. There's nothing in her that can be corrupted anymore. That's what he tells himself, over and over and over again, until it almost feels like truth.

"What a shame," Azula purrs, spreading out on the bed— _her_ bed. He's not supposed to be here. He bribed a guard to look the other way, but he shouldn't have bothered, because the guards are used to this by now. "Might be enough to elicit a shred of emotion from that block of ice. Her betrothed fucking his own sister."

"You're not my sister. You're nothing to me."

Her mouth bruising on his, defeat and ash and sin. "You're right, I'm not," she hisses, the corner of her lips turned up mirthlessly. "You're pathetic. Sneaking around in the dark like a little boy. I'm ashamed to be related to you."

"You started this," he reminds her. When they were still children, coming into his room, hurting him the same way she'd been hurt and he'd been hurt. She's always mimicked their father, in the worst possible sense of the word.

"Tell me no, then. You coward."

He doesn't, because his no has never been listened to in this house. He pushes her onto her back, opens her sleep robe, thrusts into her, and she doesn't bother saying it either.

* * *

5\. the reeling— passion pit

 _and i can feel the madness inch by inch_

 _the more i run, the more i am convinced_

Her father asks her if she wants to play a game with him, a secret one; she should be too smart to walk into the trap, but maybe she's only smart enough to realize that she has no escape route. So she lies there, and she lets him touch her in places Mother told her were dirty, and the fluids wash over her in rivers— blood and sweat and come and tears— because she's always known, with absolute certainty, that his favor had a price, and that some day he would come to collect. She likes it, he tells her, but he keeps a hand over her mouth so that she can't contradict him.

She's too young for this, but then again, she's always been a prodigy. He calls her perfect and beautiful and clever. Says he would never want to touch anyone else ever again, that he owns every inch of what he created— keeps babbling, in an endless, nauseating stream, as he thrusts. When she still can't stop crying, he slaps her hard enough to bruise and say that good girls do what they're told. She doesn't want to make Daddy angry, does she? Did he raise a daughter who needed more than a 'because I said so' to obey?

And she believes it. She swallows his lies, night after night after night. Until she sees him coming out of her brother's room.

She wonders what Father tells _him_.

* * *

6\. stella was a diver and she was always down— interpol

 _she went down, down, down there into the sea_

 _and she went down, down, down there, down before me_

When they get home from Ba Sing Se, it's his idea. He'll hate himself for the rest of his life because of this, think anything he's suffered is suddenly justifiable— their mother's death, his face burned off, years in exile and squalor— but unlike his sister, he does not believe in revising history. Azula spins new versions of the past whenever it pleases her; recreates herself, recreates what happened and ends up the victor. But he can't forget, can't drive her out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

She's grown up since he last saw her, eleven and drowning in her armor— curved waist, lips she shouldn't be painting this brightly at her age, breasts so much bigger than the buds he'd once clumsily palmed. "Have you been with other men?" he asks, and he isn't jealous. He prays more than anything that she's found a nice new boyfriend, an admiral or a general's son, someone she isn't related to. Hells, even Ty Lee would be better.

"Not unless you count Daddy," she answers like she's talking about the weather, closing the door firmly behind her. "You missed me, didn't you?"

He doesn't tell her about the nights he spent alone on the ship, when he didn't think about Mai, but about eyes as golden as his and teeth sharper than a snake's. He doesn't see the point. Instead, he kisses her without a shred of gentleness, and when she responds by raking her nails down his back, he knows some things are never going to change.

* * *

7\. tainted love— soft cell

 _the love we share_

 _seems to go nowhere_

"You owe me," Zuko tells her, and she fights the urge to knee him in the face. If she'd known fucking her brother would make him even whinier and less tolerable than usual, she would've stuck to their father, who at least showers her in gifts and pretends he likes her. The only time Zuko is halfway pleasant to her is when his cock is in her mouth, not that he deserves it.

"Really, now," she asks in her sweetest voice, coming this close to biting down on his collarbone until she draws blood. Consanguinity, but she doesn't like to think about that. "And how so?"

"Father's going to kill me if he finds out the truth," he says, panic written all over his face. "About the avatar. That was _your_ lie, to cover _your_ ass."

"No, you owe me," she says, rolling her eyes. "You could be living in the slums of Ba Sing Se right now if it weren't for my generosity, big brother. Don't tell me you really thought I'd give up my place in the line of succession for nothing."

"You bitch," he spits, and isn't this a throwback to their childhood. "Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?"

"You're hurting my feelings," she says with a fake pout, pulling her robe back on. "Now, Zuzu, what else could you possibly want from me? Your crown, your girlfriend, a life in the lap of luxury... even Father's love. Isn't his attention just as _wonderful_ as you remembered?"

Father plays rough with him, burns and scratches and even more scars littering his pale skin, but he should've known what he was walking into. Stupid boy. When he slams the door, the noise reverberates in her eardrums, and then she starts to laugh.

* * *

8\. needle in the hay— elliott smith

 _sometimes they just get caught in the eye_

 _you're pulling him through_

"Zuko, have a drink," she asks, offering up the bottle. He's always so tense around her, like she has nothing better to do than plot ways to make him miserable. Maybe this'll loosen him up a bit. "We should spend more time together, shouldn't we? We _are_ brother and sister."

"Father's going to be angry, if he catches you with that," he says, trying to be the good one, even though he knows he'll never usurp her.

"Father's never angry with me," she says, smiling brightly, and almost pours it down his front when she thrusts it at him. "Don't you like me, brother?"

"No," he replies with narrowed eyes, watching her as though she's about to pounce. When he takes a swig, it's a practiced one, and he doesn't cough. "What am I supposed to like?"

"Mother said you should," she sing-songs, the alcohol burning its way down her esophagus and making her silver tongue even looser than usual. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"No," he says again, but it's too fast to be believed and his wide eyes tell her everything she needs to know. He's a bad, bad liar. Not like Azula.

"I'm prettier than Mai," she continues recklessly. "Father says so. Prettier than Mother, even." And then she leans over and throws her mouth up against his, getting a taste of whisky and sparks. "Wouldn't you rather kiss me instead? I'm better at it."

"You're sick," he says, looking horrified, and then he slaps her in the face; Azula is not the kind of girl to cry, and grabs his arm and burns it until he yelps and jerks it away. "You're a pervert. You're my _sister_. Don't touch me!"

"I know I'm your sister," she says, confused. "Why does it matter?"

He looks at her disgustedly again, like she's violated yet another unspoken rule he and Mother _expected_ her to know, and runs off without a second glance.

When she tells Father, he pulls her onto his lap, where he's already growing hard, and says Zuko is going to pay for hitting her. Then he starts tugging off her clothes. He notices that she's drunk, but he is too, so he doesn't care.

* * *

9\. castle— halsey

 _now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it_

 _already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it_

"When did he start?"

They've started having conversations at night, wandering around the deserted halls. Azula thinks this counts as sibling bonding. "Fucking me?" she throws out casually, just to enjoy the way he flinches. "I can't believe you're still such a baby."

"I'm _not_!" he protests, his cheeks all hot. "Just tell me. Please."

"A few months ago. I don't care about anything he did— or does— with you, so save your breath."

"This is wrong, Azula," he earnestly informs her. Like she's never realized before that maybe relatives shouldn't have sex. That affection shouldn't be paid for in blood. That the crown shouldn't be worth her body. "Normal families... this is so messed up. I'm your brother. I should be protecting you."

She snorts. "You? _Protect_ me? Please. I want it, Zuzu. I don't need you messing everything up for me."

"I'm sorry I offered," he snaps, rising to the bait. "Go spend more time with him, then. See if I care."

"You're just jealous, that I'm his favorite." She wanders off until she reaches her mother's room, where she roots through her drawers for lip paint and kohl. Her brother wouldn't like the mimicry, but it doesn't bother her. Father will.

* * *

10\. lover i don't have to love— bright eyes

 _i want a lover i don't have to love_

 _i want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck_

"Do whatever you like with me— I know why you're here," she says. "Does it matter if I _consent_ or not? You're the Fire Lord."

He's been introducing all sorts of new words to her.

"I love you, Azula," he tells her, brushing strands of burnt, jagged hair off of her skeletal face. "I love you. I love you."

"You fucking liar," she scoffs, looking up into the ceiling. "You're just like Father. You've taken everything you wanted from me and left me out to rot."

"I don't want to leave you here," he says, painfully gentle as he kisses her cheek— it's almost fraternal, that kiss. "Just promise me that you won't kill me or Mai. You can come home and pretend this never happened."

Pretend. They do plenty of pretending in this family, acting their parts until someone forgets their lines and it all falls apart. "Are we going to pretend we were never together, too?"

"Yes," he insists heatedly. "We have to. Brothers and sisters don't do that, and I'm married now. We can't just... _no_ , Azula."

"Then my answer is no, too," she says with an airy handwave. "I'm not interested in playing auntie to your mewling brats, or whatever other rehabilitation project you've designed. If you don't want to fuck me, then get out."

"I'll come back," he says. Another day, another set of honeyed promises.

She hopes he never does.


End file.
